In Kashkirkishlak there was a lovely widow by the name of Salima who was engaged in selling milk.
One day, early in the morning, as I was hanging up the cages with quails nicknamed as "torkovok" (having a narrow forehead) onto the branches of weeping willows, she passed by the bakery announcing:
. - Milk! Who wants milk? Fresh milk!
I stopped the woman and greeted her. She came up to me and said with a charming smile:
- How many liters do you want?
- One... no, two. Two liters, please - I said.
Still smiling, she took a two liter glass jar with milk and gave it to me. As I was taking it our hands met unintentionally.
When I felt the touch of her hands I lost my head. I just cannot describe what I felt when our hands met. My heart went pi-a pat and melted like the icicles that melt from the warm wind of the spring morning.
When I returned her the empty jar she said:
- Al Kizim, it"s nice that I have met you. The point is that my son Genghiskhan has recently bought a new tandoor, and we cannot mount it. Maybe, you can do it? You are an expert in such things, after all. As the saying goes, even a sparrow must be slaughtered by a butcher... Well, are you coming? Please...
And she smiled exuding charm and splendour.
- Yes, by all means - I said - tell your son to prepare clay and straw. I will come after lunch.
She was happy to hear it.
- Thank you, Al Kizim-aka- she said - I"ll be waiting for you. I"ll prepare pilau with mutton fat especially for you.
- All right - I said smiling.
She left.
After lunch I got Zhavatakhun"s excuse from work and, as I had promised, made my way to Salima"s place. She was happy to see me, like a little girl, and invited me to table with soft kurpachas ( mattresses to sit on) and with the table on short legs to sit at and eat comfortably.
I sat down on kurpacha and, as a common practice, recited a short prayer for the good fortune of the family. I looked out and saw, beyond the flower-bed, a boy preparing clay mixing it with straw. His face was smudged with clay from diligence.
- Genghiskhan, greet the tandoor expert - said Salima. The boy gave me a hostile look and spitting through clenched teeth went on working in silence.
I want into the barn, changed my clothes and joine the boy in the work. Salima helped me passing me ove guvalas. The latter are oval bricks without facets. I laid them on the foundation of the tandoor. On guvalas I put clay which Genghiskhan had silently brought in two battered buckets. So the foundation was gradually taking shape. When Genghiskhan went to fetch clay I said to Salima, turning around on the sly in a low voice:
- You son does really look like Genghi Kkhan.
Salima smiled:
- The spit of one's father. He, too, was a jealous man.
- Why "was"? Is he dead?- I asked.
- No - she replied - he left us. God only knows where he is roamong about. For all I know, he is doing time in Karaulbazar Prison under Bukhara...
Presently, Genghiskhan brought the next portion of clay and we had to break our conver-sation.
I took the buckets with the clay he had brought and poured in the gradually growing foundation. Taking the empty buckets Genghiskhan walked away salima and went on laying guvalas, and I resumed sizing up Salima"s soul:
- He left you, did you say? Pardon me fo asking you an indescreet question: what are your plans for the future?
What do you mean? - she asked?
- I mean what I said. Your wish to start a new life... Do you want to get married?
-No, I don"t - Salima answered passing her hand across her throat which meant she was fed up to the neck living with my husbund .
- Don"t you feel lonely at night? - I asked.
-No - she said - I"ve got used to it. I don"t even think about it.
- As for me, I worry about my loneliness - I sighed.
-Yes, I heard that you haven"t a wife - she said.
Not wishing to let this woman slip through my fingers I lied:
I came here to become a baker. My wife and I are incompatible, as the saying goes.
- What about children? How many of them do you have? - asked Salima.
- I have two sons - I said - the senior one is Arabboy, the junior"s name is Sharabboy.
At this pint the clay carrier arrived and streched me with enmity the dirty buckets. He must have heard what we were talking about.
Half an hour later the foundation was ready. We lifted the tandor oven carefully and put it on the foundation. Then we started claying it, mixing it with straws. When the tondoor was set up I told Salima to put some dry brushwood inside the oven and kindle it. She did as I told her. The fire generated steam over the oven. Far away beyond the horizon the day was fading, and it was getting dusky. We first filled the oven with chips and splinters and then put some logs and gradually increased the furnace. The oven looked like the huge head of a fire breathing dragon in the dark starry sky.
- That"s all - I said - don"t put logs any more. It will have dried up by morning.
Having finished the work we washed and ate tasty plau with mutton fat which Salima prepared as she had promised. Genghiskhan didn"t utter a word eating his supper like dumb. But I wasn"t offended. Salima wanted to give me money for the work done but I didn"t take it. After supper I said good bye to Salima and went out into the street.